


the wild might be the deuce

by stilesinwonderland (itsabravenewworld)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Omegle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/stilesinwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek on omegle when they're in the same room as each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wild might be the deuce

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

**You: Hi stranger!**

Stranger: Hello.

**You: I’m not going to ask you for pictures of you naked, nor am I going to send you pictures of me. Just putting that out there!**

Stranger: That’s a relief.

**You: So what brings you here today?**

Stranger: Mostly an internet connection, really.

**You: Very funny. I’m in class trying to avoid a big project due next week.**

Stranger: You probably shouldn’t avoid your schoolwork.

**You: That’s besides the point. So what’s your name? If you don’t want to say that’s cool, we can give you an awesome code name or something.**

Stranger: A code name is good. I’m D.

**You: That’s… pretty lame.**

Stranger: It’s the first initial of my name?

**You: OH! Oh God, I’m an asshole. Sure, okay, D it is. Call me S then.**

**You: I’m a guy, by the way.**

Stranger: Me too.

**You: Cool. Getting to know each other, it’s all cool.**

Stranger: You seem like you talk a lot.

**You: Well you seem like you don’t!**

Stranger: That’s kind of true.

Stranger: I don’t know what to say sometimes.

**You: I never know what NOT to say. So that’s okay.**

**You: My library seriously needs new computers.**

Stranger: My town most likely couldn’t afford anything new; even the chairs are falling apart.

**You: I know, I’m always stuck in the library because I can’t afford to get my laptop fixed. I feel the same way, my chair has been squeaking for the past 30 minutes I’ve been here.**

Stranger: I’m sure the people next to you adore your presence.

**You: HA, I think the guy to my left has wanted to kill me since I’ve come in. At least I know him. Kind of. We went to high school together.**

Stranger: Does he actually know you by name?

**You: ...Probably not.**

Stranger: Ha!

**You: He kind of looks like he has angry eyebrows.**

**You: At least he’s chuckling at something now though.**

Stranger: Are you sure he’s not laughing at YOU?

Stranger: And what do you mean angry eyebrows?

**You: He’s been pretty invested in his computer for a while, so naw**

 

**You: And I don’t know, his eyebrows seem like they have a mind of their own. Like they’re judging you or something.**

**You: He’s cute though, in a grumpy cat way.**

Stranger: I feel like you’ve shared too much.

Stranger: And I have no clue what grumpy cat is.

**You: Well look it up! Hopefully your dinosaur computer won’t shut down from opening more than one tab.**

**You: ALSO, there’s no harm in sharing things with a stranger that doesn’t even know my name! Unless you have a problem with it?**

Stranger: Not at all.

**You: That’s good**

**You: Crisis averted**

**You: So what do you think of grumpy cat?**

Stranger: I think I understand what you mean about the eyebrows now

**You: SEE?!**

**You: That’s exactly how I feel about my computer lab buddy**

Stranger: I’m sure he finds you just as confusing.

**You: Me? I’m an open book compadre! Ask me anything and I’ll tell you!**

Stranger: What’s your favorite color?

**You: You’re actually going with that? The default of all get-to-know-you questions?**

Stranger: You said anything.

**You: FINE, my favorite color is green.**

Stranger: Why?

**You: ...I don’t know.**

Stranger: You should know why

**You: Pushy!!**

**You: Well… it was the color of my mom’s eyes. It’s also the color of computer lab guy’s, not that I’m paying attention to them. It’s kind of like grass and trees, which give you oxygen. So it’s just a pretty cool color.**

**You: What about you? What’s your favorite color D?**

Stranger: Red.

**You: Hey, my shirt’s red!**

Stranger: That’s good for you.

**You: Don’t be rude >:( Why is your favorite color red?**

Stranger: I don’t really know, I don’t really have a favorite. But I like red right now.

**You: That seems legit.**

**You: Let’s see, what else?**

**You: What’s your favorite movie?**

Stranger: “A Beautiful Mind.”

**You: That’s a good one. Mine is “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”**

Stranger: I knew this person in high school that would quote that movie every single day.

**You: I think that person and I should have been friends in high school.**

Stranger: You’re alike, I think. He talks a lot too.

**You: Hmph.**

Stranger: But he’s also nice.

**You: I’m flattered!**

Stranger: It /was/ a compliment

**You: Good to know**

**You: So there’s actually a time restraint on my computer, and I only have a minute or so left**

Stranger: Mine too, but I have around ten minutes.

**You: So I guess I have to go! I think I’m going to go and help the person next to me, they spilled their coffee everywhere.**

**You: It was great talking to you, thanks for helping me procrastinate**

**You: D?**

Stiles taps his fingers against the keys, and the browser doesn’t indicate that the stranger had disconnected or that they’re typing. The girl is still mopping up her mocha, and Stiles figures he’s out of time and is just about to disconnect when the chat message pops up.

Stranger: Is she wearing a college hoodie?

**You: What?**

Quick, Stiles takes a look at the girl, and does a double take--her hoodie is his school color, a burgundy and has a Viking on the front of it. She glares at him, probably angry at Stiles for staring and not offering to help. Stiles ignores her and hurries to type into his computer.

**You: Yeah**

Stranger: Shit

Stiles is typing and frantically scanning the room when he halts, because Derek Hale, tall dark and handsome, is staring at him, and he looks four different types of surprised. Stiles’s fingers freeze on the keys, and slam down with a clatter.  “Oh.”

Derek looks like a fish out of water. There’s a couple across from them, watching with annoyed expressions for the disturbance, like they hadn’t been making out ten seconds before. “Oh.”

_“Oh._ ” Stiles glances at Derek’s computer and he can see the webpage up, right there, he feels mortified. His face heats up, and he blinks tight, hopes the ground will swallow him up. “Uh, hi.”

Derek faces him completely, offers the tiniest twitch of his lips. “Stiles, right?”

Stiles flounders, his computer beeps to tell him that his time’s up and they’re disconnected. “So you do know it,” he says with a mortified laugh.

“I know it,” Derek affirms. And he probably _should_ know it; Stiles used to be his lackey in lacrosse during high school, all the while suppressing his raging crush on him. Even back then, he was stunningly handsome, and he was disproportional like a teenager should have been. He was all rippling muscles running down the field and doing fifty push-ups just to show off.  Stiles, meanwhile, was smart, knew the plans and the layout of the field and that was when he wore reading glasses all of the time. It made Stiles feel like he wasn’t quite important enough to actually hold a conversation with him.

Stiles curses his inability even now to look him in the eyes. “That’s uh, well.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck and pulls his t-shirt neck to cool himself off. “That’s good. Good to know.” He looks down at the fabric of his shirt. “Wait-- my shirt is _red_ \--”

Before he finishes, Derek cups each side of his face gently, and he’s pressing a quick, dry kiss to Stiles’s mouth, effectively silencing his babbles. Stiles breaths out, licks his lips when they separate and stares with blown eyes.

“Sorry,” Derek laughs self-deprecating, tilts his whole body back and lets go, and Stiles feels so pole-axled that he doesn’t really get what’s happening, doesn’t tell him to come back. Now Derek is actually blushing, it’s slightly visible past the scruff on his cheeks that Stiles wants to feel back on his face. “You probably don’t want--”

Stiles scoffs. “Uh. Yeah, _okay_.” And he _yanks_ , so hard that Derek’s chair nearly cracks in half (they really _aren’t_ sturdy at all), but neither of them care. Stiles wraps his fingers round the corded muscles of Derek’s neck and presses, presses in, tilts to find the right angle.

With a swift _snap_ , Derek’s chair finally gives up its fight and throws him sideways to the ground. Derek, with a hold on Stiles’s shirt still, drags him down with him, and Stiles collapses right onto his chest.

He laughs so hard that they both get kicked out, which is fine with him because Derek, after paying for the chair they’d ruined, offers to take him out for coffee.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! So I've been in SUCH a funk for writing lately which is a total bummer, and it's harder for me to actually get any kind of writing finished because I hate what I write before I finish it. So I mean, just leave comments and stuff about what you liked/what you didn't (cringes) and I'll be such a happy clam! 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> (The title is from the song "Roulette" by System of a Down. Cause aahahah chat roulette, get it?)
> 
> PSS come visit me on tumblr, I'm obriensnipples :3


End file.
